Before I Wake (14 page)

“Two drops on cotton and press hard for ten seconds, then wash with warm water. I remember.”

“Don’t use it more than once a day.”

“I’ll try to be patient, Walter, if you’re sure this will work.”

“It should do the job for you in about three weeks.”

Rae scanned the shelves of vitamins and cold remedies as she waited. Something with zinc was supposed to be good for a sore throat. Nathan needed something; he was really getting hoarse. She picked up cough drops and for herself a pack of Juicy Fruit gum.

The lady opened her change purse and tugged out folded bills. “Would you make my change in quarters? I need some gum balls for my grandkids from that machine up front.”

“Sure.” The pharmacist made change and handed it across the counter along with her prescription sack. “Come see me next week and let me know how it’s doing.”

“I will.”

Rae waited until the lady had moved down the aisle before stepping to the counter.

“Good afternoon.”

She read the name tag and was relieved to find it was the owner. “Mr. Myers. I’m Rae Gabriella; I just started working with Bruce Chapel next door.”

“Sure, I heard word at the café Bruce had himself a partner. It’s nice to meet you.” Walter offered his hand across the counter. He looked in his midforties, blond hair and brown eyes, a nice tan, and a welcoming smile that had her smiling back. “Walter Jr., as opposed to Walter Sr., my father.” He nodded toward the man in a white coat working the other end of the counter.

It was a family business, and she didn’t figure they had moved to Justice just to open the pharmacy. “Your family is one of the town’s lifelong residents?”

“We’ve been here just a generation less than the Justice crowd, right, Dad?”

“Twenty years less, give or take,” Walter Sr. replied, rearranging boxes.

“My father was the pharmacist in town before me, and probably my son Scott will take over one day for me. You’ll get used to families in town all knowing each other for generations back. How can I help you today?”

“Could I purchase these items back here?”

“Sure.”

“Nathan Justice mentioned you might have something over the counter that could help with an intense itch.” She rested her arm on the counter and rolled up her sleeve to show the scar. “The doctor did a good job, but it’s healing and driving me crazy when it gets warm.”

Walter set aside the cough drops and took hold of her wrist to turn her arm and study the scar. “You may be a touch allergic to the dissolvable stitches they used. I’ve got a cream that might help, if only to keep the salt of sweat out of irritating it more.”

“I’ll try about anything.”

Walter turned away and opened the refrigerator. He brought back a small cream jar. “Let’s see if this helps before I make you a batch. It’s basically a bunch of things out there on the shelves mixed together in a skin cream, but those who hit poison ivy during the summer swear by it.”

He opened the jar and she smelled a rich vanilla. “Rub in some at one end of the scar and if it’s helping in a few hours, stop back by and I’ll make you a few days’ worth.”

“Thanks.” She found the cream smooth and cold and it rubbed in easily. “Nathan said you also had a sunburn cream.”

“He should market it I keep telling him,” Walter Sr. said.

“That’s more work than I want, Dad.” He rang up her small purchases. “Most of these come down as recipes from my grandmother and I improve them a bit as new over-the-counter options become available. The mosquito repellent still needs work, but I’m hopeful I’ll get it perfected this summer. I like being practical.”

Rae pulled folded bills from her pocket for the purchases. “Did you hear about the lady who died at the Sunburst Hotel this weekend?”

“Yes, it’s tragic news.”

Rae showed him the photo. “Her name is Peggy Worth. I’m working for her parents, trying to trace where Peggy went while she was in town. I noticed she called the pharmacy on Friday afternoon. Would you remember what that happened to be about?”

Walter Sr. came over to take a look at the picture too. “I remember her.”

Walter Jr. nodded. “As I told Detective Sillman, she’d walked through a briar patch and wanted to know if we had peroxide or something she could use to deal with the burrs which had gotten under her socks. I sold her tweezers and antiseptic and talked her into getting a package of those ankle guards the guys use when they are out walking pastures to avoid just that kind of thing happening.”

“Did she say where she had been?”

“Since she also asked about where to find Joe Prescott’s place, I assume she was out east of town getting lost on the unmarked roads down by the river trying to find his place on her own.”

“Let me guess—you didn’t tell her Joe had died.”

Walter winced. “I feel kind of bad about that now. Joe’s so ornery, rumor around here has it he faked his death to get reporters off his case. Joe could be living comfortably back at one of his cabins in the woods enjoying the start of the early ice fishing, or so the legend around here goes.”

She accepted the good-natured no and smiled. “So Peggy from here probably went where . . . ?”

“Have you tried the newspaper?” Walter Sr. asked. “They would have been closed to the public by 4 p.m. Friday, but there’s a chance Peggy talked herself in to see the archives.”

“I already did. The editor would love to have a story on my search, but he doesn’t remember Peggy and he worked Friday until shortly after 8 p.m.”

“She had to eat, and this town loves to notice visitors.”

Rae slid the photo back into her file. “I’m counting on that. Thanks, guys, for the help and the cream.”

“If it’s working in a few hours, give me a call. I can make a batch in about an hour,” Walter promised.

“I’ll do that.”

Rae picked up her sack, nodded her thanks, and walked back through the store.

Rae unlocked the passenger-side door of her car. She was glad she’d arranged to see Peggy’s home first thing tomorrow morning. Peggy had to be working on a news story of some kind, either human interest or a more investigative piece. Maybe a neighbor of Joe Prescott had seen Peggy or her car. So far it appeared that Peggy hadn’t learned of Joe’s death by Saturday night when she died.

Had they been wrong to assume Peggy had been planning to see the movie in Justice? Rae knew she personally thought nothing of driving an hour north of Chicago for dessert. Peggy likely had the same Chicago resident sense of distance. As long as you could get there in a couple hours, you didn’t think twice about the drive. Maybe her date wasn’t in Justice, but closer to where Peggy lived.

Rae retrieved her street map of the town. She’d walk both sides of the downtown streets and begin canvassing the businesses and maybe get lucky with someone who had had a conversation with Peggy.

From her own observations, the townspeople seemed to tilt toward longer conversations even with strangers than big cities ever did. That would be useful. From the trash Nathan had noted, Peggy had visited the Fine Chocolates Shop, and that was a nearby shop Rae planned to linger at: made-from-scratch chocolates—she’d indulge with pleasure.

* * *

“I understand you want to visit where Joe Prescott lived,” Nathan said.

Rae started, nearly dropping the folder with Peggy’s photo she had been showing at shops and the small bag of chocolate pieces she had tucked under her arm. She turned to find Nathan at her elbow. “You’re going to give me a heart attack with that kind of surprise arrival.”

“You were thinking so hard you didn’t hear me. And I don’t think it was about preordering Valentine’s Day flowers.”

Rae realized she had stopped in front of the flower shop. “No, I wasn’t thinking about flowers.” She turned her attention back to the Justice street map she was attempting to refold, the streets marked with small notations recording where she had stopped today. “I can’t find Peggy’s notebook. If she was working on a story, she had to have notes.”

“Makes sense.”

He looked good despite the windblown hair and a streak of mud drying on his left sleeve and pant leg. It didn’t look like it had been a quiet day for him. She just felt windblown and uncoordinated and a bit caught off guard for what to say.

“I’m heading out east of town to check on a broken-in barn. Would you like to ride along? I can show you the Prescott land,” Nathan offered.

She appreciated the unexpected invition. “I’m due to meet Bruce in twenty minutes. Can I take a rain check for tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“I got you something, not as nice as the roses, but something.” Rae dug out the bag of cough drops from her pocket.

Nathan smiled as he accepted them. “They’re a godsend. Thanks.”

“The strike has kept you busy today?”

“A couple scuffles and one of the management negotiators received a broken car window, but it has stayed contained.” Nathan glanced around to see who was nearby. “It may get pretty tense around here later this week; don’t take what people say against them, okay? A strike tends to brings out the worst as well as the best in people.”

“I rarely let first impressions of someone be my long-term opinion.” She offered the bag of chocolates to share her best find of the day—the chocolates were near perfection. “You’ve heard news that has you worried?”

“I hear lots of rumors, most of which I’m glad don’t come true,” Nathan replied, accepting a chocolate piece. “Enough work. If you’re free tomorrow night, say nine, do you want to join me at Sir Arthur’s for a game of pool?”

“If I’m free, I’ll be there.”

“Good. Thanks.” Nathan walked back to his squad car. “I’ll see you around, Rae.”

She lifted a hand in farewell as his car pulled away.

14

“Charred enough for you?” Bruce asked.

“Perfectly burnt,” Rae replied happily, working through the hamburger. Steaks she liked bloody; hamburgers she preferred burnt. She reached over into the picnic basket to retrieve the milk shake she had balanced against the container of cold pasta. “This is not exactly what I expected.”

“Think of it as the one hazard of this new job, the constant changing of the best-laid plans.”

“I think you mean you forgot to pick up your dirty socks and changed your mind about showing me your place tonight.”

Bruce grinned. “Now she figures it out. Try the strawberries; I requested them especially for you.”

She selected one from the container. Their plans for dinner at Bruce’s home had changed with the reality that Bruce was still working as she got ready to wrap up her day. He’d shown his connections in this town with the ability to get food delivered to him, even while on a stakeout.

Rae gestured out the car window. “He’s not cheating on his wife.”

“I know that. You know that. His wife still isn’t ready to believe that. And I lost my best chance of getting fired by her yesterday. I watched Bob slip out to spend the afternoon with Nathan’s grandfather.”

“Then what are we doing sitting here?” They had been watching the back door of the union hall for the last hour.

“Paying the rent. Getting reacquainted.” He flashed her a smile. “Convincing you to go out with me again, not just come by my place for dinner.”

“If you’re waiting on that, I may test your patience a bit.” She shifted in the seat and pushed off her shoes. She’d walked so many streets of Justice today showing Peggy’s photo she suspected she’d raised a blister.

She’d love to date again: the care and thought and time a guy put into a relationship made her feel like a princess. Bruce seemed more relaxed about life now and maybe that extended to what he thought about God, about having a family, about what he wanted for his future. She had plenty of time to figure out the changes, to figure out her own heart and life troubles. She wasn’t going to hurry it. The last thing she wanted to do was mess up the one bright spot in her life right now.

She focused on dinner, realizing she had forgotten lunch during the course of the day.

* * *

“There’s Bob,” Rae said, spotting their quarry.

Heather’s husband left the union hall and bypassed his car in the lot to walk down to the sidewalk and head north.

Bruce started his car. “Now where is he going?”

Bruce drove past Bob and turned onto the next block. He pulled over to the curb, using the rearview mirror to keep track of the man. “Okay, we need to know who lives at 426 Kline Street.”

Rae turned to better see the house. “The red brick with a porch?”

“Yes.”

She reached around to the backseat and picked up the street-marketing directory, one of Bruce’s expensive luxuries that made his work easier. She found Kline Street and scanned house numbers. “Peter and Ellen Tucker.”

“Tucker . . . isn’t he the one who owns the farm-equipment dealership and rents out heavy-construction equipment?”

Rae reached for the phone book to see if the yellow pages had an ad.

“It’s faster just to call Margaret and ask,” Bruce said, picking up the phone to call his office manager at home. Bruce asked Margaret the question and then gestured for a pen. He scrawled down several names beginning with
Peter Tucker
and put arrows between them. “Thanks, Margaret.” He hung up the phone. “Peter Tucker owns the business and he’s a distant cousin to Bob Teal.”

“So Bob’s now visiting family.”

“Yep.”

Rae leaned her head back against the seat. “If every private case is like this one . . .”

Bruce laughed. “This is one of the worst; I just thought I’d start you out at the bottom so when cases got more interesting you’d appreciate it.”

“Thanks.”

Rae watched Bruce. His gaze was patiently focused on the rearview mirror waiting for Bob Teal to reappear. He had never been this patient in days past.

“Close your eyes and catch a catnap. I’ve got this covered.”

“I’m along to keep you company.”

Bruce smiled. “You are.”

“I’m not wimping out and sleeping on a stakeout.” She reached into the picnic basket for another soda. “I’m just still on East Coast time.”

“Humm.”

She slapped his leg. “Lay off; it’s been a while since I endured this stakeout boredom.”